The Doctor and the Call Girl
by mrhonda1987
Summary: Coincidence is the word we use when we can't see the lever's and the pulleys.  A tragic take on a lovely relationship.


The Doctor and the Call Girl

_By Greg Senger_

It was a sticky, humid night. The glitz and glam of London, 2006, was everywhere; expensive cars loading and unloading people that looked like they could have been from Hollywood, bright hotel marquees, and lots of attractive young men and women with only one thing on their mind.

Belle loved every moment of it. The humidity of August kept her tight dress clinging to her body. Not that it mattered; it was going to be off soon anyway. She couldn't help but think about her life thus far; upper middle class background, university educated, and a huge secret that no one could ever know. But none of that mattered right now. As soon as she got a call, it was all behind her; that's when Belle came out.

Her heels clicked on the marvelous old marble floor of the grand hotel. She was to meet her John, both literally and figuratively, at the hotel bar. There, they'd exchange pleasantries, and money, then head off to his room.

'Skinny with spiked hair and a suit,' she recalled, remembering how John had described himself over the phone. He could have very well been lying; they all did to some extent. Belle found this quite odd, since she was always honest with her clients, well, except for her real name.

She eyed the bar patrons, looking for her date. Only one man matched the description she was told over the phone. He indeed had spiked hair, a brown suit and was very thin. He stared into the bottom of a glass, looking more depressed than eager.

She pressed her lips together, redistributing the color on them. She put on her professional self and stepped to the bar. She found herself a touch nervous as she approached the guy; one never knows what this person was like. He told her he was a doctor; a plastic surgeon. For all she knew, he was a liar and a homicidal maniac with a flavor for expensive, high end call girls. But, she didn't have time to worry about that now.

"John Smith?" she asked, joining the skinny fellow at the bar. "Doctor?" she asked again.

The voice resonated into his ear, striking a familiar chord. It was a pang so familiar; but it couldn't have been right. He turned from the bottom of his glass to look at her. His eyes widened immediately, not believing who was standing before him. "No," he said, looking like he'd seen a ghost. "No, no, no, no…" he repeated. "You can't be… no."

Everything about the girl before him was so right; correct shade of blonde hair, big lovely lips, and deep brown eyes. His mind was at war with his other senses. She couldn't be… but he wanted so badly for it to be her.

Belle got a weird feeling from the skinny man that he wasn't her guy. He would have expected her; he did after all contact her through her blog. "Sorry, I think I've got the wrong guy," she told him. "I'll just be going." She started for the door, a little weirded out by him.

"Wait, no," he said, reaching for her to stop. "Sorry. I am John Smith. You just reminded me of someone I knew. Sorry, please stay," he insisted.

Belle stopped. She needed the money; living on the north side of London wasn't cheap. She pensively sat down in the stool next to his. An uneasy moment fell between them. "So, whatcha drinking? Rum and coke?" she asked, spotting little bubbles breaking the surface of his glass.

"Dr. Pepper," he told her. His gaze moved back down into the glass, as if he couldn't bear to look at her.

Belle had picked up on his odd behavior. She'd met the type before; awkward around women, no social skills, probably a momma's boy. She had to make him feel comfortable. If she didn't, she wouldn't get paid. "So what's it like? Being a plastic surgeon and all that?" She reasoned he had to be confident to cut into people's bodies regularly and not be sued.

"What?" he asked, his voice going all squeaky. "Oh, no, I'm not that kind of Doctor," he explained. "I don't often practice medicine," he explained.

Either he wasn't the guy, or he was and he'd lied to her earlier. It really didn't matter to Belle which, since he had to pay either way. "You said on the phone that you were," she told him, looking around at the bar for someone else who matched the description. No one was present. "So what kind of doctoring do you do?" She figured she might as well try and pick him up, or at least get a free drink and some conversation out of him.

"Oh, just general sciencey doctoring," he explained, glancing over at her. "I'm sorry about earlier; the whole 'no' episode."

"It's okay," Belle told him, growing more comfortable with the skinny man.

"It's just, you look so much like her," he said, fixing his gaze on Belle. "She was a friend of mine, great friend really, very special to me… and I lost her." He was shaken recalling his friend; it rattled him to the core, and parts of him didn't know if he wanted to continue without her.

"I'm sorry," Belle told him. "Who was she? What's her name?"

"Her name's Rose," he explained. "I loved her, and I never even got the chance to tell her," he explained. He took a swig of Dr. Pepper, finishing the beverage in one gulp.

"I'm sorry," she told him again. "How'd you lose her?"

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you," he explained with a chuckle. "We traveled around; saw the sights, had a laugh. She really was the best thing that ever happened to me. But, she's gone now. And I'll never get her back."

"Is she okay?" Belle asked. "I mean, nothing is impossible. If she's okay, why can't you get her back?" It wasn't in Belle's job description to play psychiatrist, at least not while fully clothed. But she couldn't help but feel for the man. He was clearly broken, missing this Rose character.

"She's fine," he told her. "Living with her family; she's got everything, safe and sound."

"But, not you," Belle told him. "Did she love you?"

The skinny guy smiled. "She did," he said. "Still, no sense worrying about that."

"I think you should," she told him. "Love conquers all."

"Advice from a call girl about love?" he asked. He didn't want to sound ungrateful, but she was probably the last person who should have been giving love advice.

"Just because I sleep with people for money, doesn't mean I don't love." She signaled the barman to bring her champagne. "I've been in love plenty of times. It's a great feeling. I'm still mates with a guy who I was ready to marry. He didn't like my choice of career," she explained.

"Do you? Do you like doing your job?" he asked.

"I really do. Get to know people, have sex, and make good money. Sure, there are dangers, but what line of work isn't there?" she asked. The barman arrived with her champagne.

"Well, as long as you're happy I suppose," he told her. He signaled for another fizzy Dr. Pepper. "Do you like travel?" he asked.

"I love it," she explained. "Been to New York, Paris, Berlin, and Rome… I'm not so keen on Rome; too many Italians." She sipped the bubbly in her glass.

"I've been a place like that once. Clom it's called. Real armpit of a place. Smelly, garbage everywhere…" he told her. "So, hang on. If you're not here for me, that means you were here for someone who looked like me, right?" he asked.

"Yep," she told him, looking at him. He wasn't unattractive, but his reaction earlier had sort of turned her off. "He said he was a Doctor named John Smith. Description matching you," she informed.

"Well that's weird," he told her, still in disbelief at how much she looked like Rose.

"Or you just got cold feet," she said, "Could be you had no money. Maybe you're some sort of weirdo."

"I am different," he admitted. "So, what's your name? You never said."

"You're really not him?" she asked, downcast. "My name's Belle."

"Is that your real name or professional name?" All high class prostitutes had a pseudonym.

"Professional," she told him.

"Since we'll never sleep together, can I have your real name?" he asked.

"Only if I can have yours," she told him. "John Smith is a terrible fake name; too generic."

"I'm the Doctor," he said, finishing his second Dr. Pepper. "Nothing else, just Doctor."

"You know what?" she said, "I believe you. I'm Hannah." They shook hands. Instantly, she felt as if she knew absolutely everything about him. That brief moment of contact between them bonded them more than a hundred dates or years of marriage. She felt every moment of pain he carried, every place he'd been, every girl loved. Rose was at the forefront. This Rose really did look like her, identical in fact. She now knew why he reacted like he did on seeing her.

"Quirk of the species," he explained. "Sorry."

"Who are you?" she asked, knowing so much, yet so little about this beautiful man before her.

"I told you," he said, standing. "I'm the Doctor." He turned to the door. "Mind if I stop and talk to you whenever I need someone?"

"I'd like that," she told him, looking at the odd combination of Converse trainers and a brown suit and tie.

"Goodnight, Hannah," he told her. "I've got someplace I've got to be. Be careful, okay?"

She nodded in agreement. He smiled at her, then turned and went out the hotel door. A strange scratchy noise echoed into the lobby. Belle turned back to the bar, alone. Just like him.


End file.
